


Those Good Old Memories

by Semoka



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Fluff, Lestrade-centric, M/M, Mycroft Can Sing, dont worry about roger he's there for like half a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semoka/pseuds/Semoka
Summary: When a singer drops out last minute, Mycroft is tasked with performing at a Christmas Charity Concert as a favor. There is no way Lestrade is missing out on this.





	Those Good Old Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this song and absolutely had to write Mycroft performing it. Sue me.

"Please, Mycroft, you know I wouldn't come to you if I wasn't desperate!" Roger begs, hands flat against Mycroft's desk as he leans forward with pleading eyes. Mycroft sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"You certainly know how to flatter a man." Mycroft snaps, looking up at his colleague. "One would think after several years of acquaintance, Mr.Chilli, you would have grown to know me a little better."

"The choreography is easy enough to learn in a few hours, especially with that memory of yours, and you already know the song so you don't need the lyrics, just how to sing it!" The stage manager urges.

"My apologies, Roger, but this is something I simply cannot do." The name drips from his lips with venom and annoyance. He reaches for the intercom to have Anthea remove him only to have his wrist unceremonially grabbed by the other man. "Unhand me or you will be un-handed." He threatens with a penetrating glare.

"You owe me, Mycroft Holmes," Roger says lowly, frown etched into old features. "That time in Salem, remember? You said you were in my debt, now is the time you pay up." Both men are caught in a staring match, a solid glare matching a needy one. Finally, with a simple clenching of his fist and a slow blink, Mycroft concedes. Roger grins then releases him. 

  
The intercom button is pressed. "Anthea, dear, please clear my schedule for the day and inform Gregory I will be missing our lunch. I have...rehearsal." He hears a quiet laugh from is PA when she doesn't let go of the button fast enough and rolls his eyes, rolling them again when he looks up once more to see Roger bouncing on his heels in a way that a man of his age shouldn't be able to do.

"To the studio, then! Hope you like tap shoes!" Chilli joyfully calls as he walks out. Mycroft follows reluctantly, pointedly not looking at smug grin Anthea gives him as she hands the men their coats.

* * *

 

"Mr.Holmes sends his regrets, he won't be able to make your lunch meeting today. In exchange, he invites you to the Christmas Charity Concert tonight at eight." Anthea smiles, handing Greg a gold envelope. He was disappointed when she was at his office door instead of his partner, but the thought of a performance makes him pep up again. "In my professional opinion, Detective Inspector, wear the grey suit he gifted you for your birthday. It's his favorite." Her voice is soft and charming as usual and he accepts the envelope graciously.

 

"You say that every time we're going to go somewhere." Greg remarks, looking over the invitation. He frowns when he notices a key detail missing from the invite. "This is only my name. Is Mycroft not coming?" He asks, worried. This is not the kind of event he wanted to attend at alone, stuck at a table feeling more like one of the wait staff than the high-class persons around him.

"He will be there, rest assured." She paused, watching the relief wash over Lestrade's face as he goes to take a sip of coffee. "He's performing." She takes a step back as he chokes and spits coffee over his desk.

 

"Mycroft Holmes is performing at a Christmas Concert?" He gasps out, catching his breath. "Are we talking about the same Holmes here?"

"He owes a favor to the stage manager. A performer dropped out last minute and Mr.Holmes was asked to take his place." Anthea explains. Her phone beeps, reminding her she had other matters to attend to. "I will assure Mr.Holmes that will be attending tonight?"

 

"Yeah, I'll be there," Lestrade responds, distracted. Mycroft Holmes performing...that was going to be quite the sight. Anthea nods and takes her leave, closing the office door behind her. 

This was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

 

There was a young girl on stage playing the piano when Greg arrived at the dinner theatre, smiling charmingly at the paparazzi as he walked down the red carpet. He wasn't quite used to all the cameras at these events yet, but God help him if his mother got a hold of a magazine or newspaper that had him frowning. He takes a moment to admire the elegant room he's entered. It had a large, arching ceiling framed by gold and a delicate crystal chandelier that made Greg nervous just looking at it. There were large alcove windows on the sides of the room, a few near the center with doors leading out to balconies. It reminded him of grand ballrooms from ages ago, if not for the fact that the 'dance floor' had been replaced with tables for groups and couples alike. Most were in their seats, a few mingling near the windows or just outside for a smoke.

 

A staff member clears his throat next to him, startling him out of his thoughts. His posture is stiff, one arm behind his back and the other bent and held out in front of him. "Your coat, sir?" He asked, politely.

"Oh, yeah," Greg quickly sheds his coat, laying it on the man's arm. "Thanks." The man bows slightly before retreating to the coat closet, handing Greg a tag number which he pockets. He pauses at the hostess podium, smiling at the older woman manning it.

 

"Could you tell me my table number by any chance? I'm Lestrade, Greg Lestrade." He waits patiently as she goes through her list, beaming at him when she finds it.

"Table 306, dearie, right up against the stage!" She winks teasingly at him, handing him a drink menu. "Lucky boy."

 

"That I am, miss, that I am." Greg quickly makes his way to his table, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter with quick thanks as he passes. He's sitting just as the little girl finishes her piece and applauds her along with the rest of the crowd.

A few more child prodigies perform, Greg applauding every one of them. Singing and dancing and a remarkable group of girls who performed a poem. As the curtains drew to a close on them, a voice comes over the loudspeaker. After a quick reminder of where donation boxes lay, a drum roll starts. "Ladies and gentlemen, do we have a treat for you!" The voice booms. "Now that our wonderful children are heading to bed, it's time for the night to transition to our adult performers! First up is a dear friend of mine who honorably jumped in last minute after our dearest Paul fell ill. Singing Do Wacka Do, it's Mycroft Holmes!" The audience burst into applause.

  
 Greg instantly sat up in his seat, attention all on the decorated stage as the curtains opened. There Mycroft stood at the top of a set of stairs, as elegant as ever with a black cane over his shoulder and his hand in his trouser pocket. His suit fit into the old feel of the ballroom, and the top hat on his head completed everything. As the music started, sounding of the 1950's, Greg found himself smiling. It widened into a grin when Mycroft started singing, posh tone fitting perfectly with the song.

 It surprised Greg to see a small grin on Mycroft's face as he curled his voice around the words, his jaw-dropping entirely when Mycroft started dancing as he sung.  The man seemed to float on air as he moved down the stairs, feet tapping with each step. It was more playful walking than actual dancing, but he was in awe anyway. Just seeing the way Mycroft swiveled his hips and his tailcoat spun after him was mesmerizing. Then came Mycroft actually tap dancing, closing his eyes as he focused on the movement of his feet. Greg was absolutely finished by the time the song closed and everyone was applauding, him the loudest of them all. 

The moment the curtains closed, Greg was on his feet and out of the building, texting Mycroft to come to the backstage door. It was relatively easy to find due to the paparazzi eagerly waiting outside of it. He pushed through the crowd, emerging as the stage door opened and his partner waved him in, still in costume minus the top hat.

Mycroft smiled at him, going no further in the eyes of the cameras. Greg smiled back, getting the message and keeping to himself. The moment the door closed, however, Greg surged forward and kissed Mycroft with every emotion he felt during the performance. Mycroft responded eagerly, pushing Greg back against the door with hands on his hips. The kiss slowed down until they were just exchanging gentle presses of the lips, finally stopping to just look at each other. 

"Hey." Greg whispered, arms loosely wrapped around Mycroft's neck. 

"Hello, Gregory." Mycroft responded, voice equally soft. They stared at each other for a moment more before breaking down into laughter against the door. 

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen you do." Greg praised, running his hands through Mycroft's hair after they'd calmed down. Mycroft hummed in response, still not used to accepting praise after six months of a relationship. At least he'd stopped denying it entirely.

Ten minutes of just leaning against the door in comfort was broken by Anthea appearing, telling them they had an hour of mingling before they could go home. They slowly exited their hold, and Mycroft began to walk away to go change but was stopped by Greg's hand on his wrist turning him back around.

"I love you." He says, and his eyes show every bit of it. Mycroft pulls him in for one last kiss, pouring love into it, then walks away.

Greg and Anthea share a smile as they walk out of the stage door together and get the rumor mill running.  A thought is shared between the two of them in the last moment before Anthea expertly disappears into the crowds.

_Mycroft Holmes is one extraordinary man._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments fuel my worth ethic and kudos make me pleased. 
> 
> If you liked it, check out some of my other fics and visit me on my tumblr @semoka


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